Murderous Mansion
by OogieBoogie
Summary: "You don't understand, Malfoy. I'm not making this up. My house is trying to kill me," Hermione walked towards him and looked at him dead in the eye. "Granger, if I were your house, I too would try to kill you." Hermione's house has gone bonkers, trying to kill her every chance it gets. She enlists the help of famous Curse Breaker, Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Congratulations, Ms Granger," said the realtor, handing her a bunch of about a hundred gold, antique keys. "Enjoy your new home."

"Thank you," Hermione answered, her hand dropping quite low after receiving the keys, clearly not expecting the weight of them. "These are …" She inspected the keys, each with a label, ugly scrawls of 'Music Room', 'Master Bedroom', 'Pantry' and a misspelled 'Kittschen', "A lot."

"Yes, it is quite an old mansion – very beautiful, just needs a little maintenance here and there," said the realtor, Anastasia, a forty-something slender redhead as she smoothed down her blue suit, "It's good that this house will finally have an owner once more. Greta refused to put it up for sale, insisting that 'The Right One' hasn't come. They were very superstitious, you see. They believed that this old place has some magic powers."

Hermione blinked and laughed a little too high-pitched for her own liking.

"I know, right?!" she giggled, slapping Hermione gently on the shoulder. "This is just too crazy."

"Yeah, crazy," Hermione shook her head. That was impossible; she bought this place knowing that it was far away from Wizarding London, away from magic. She loved magic, and she was working as an Arguer at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was just that she needed have something … _Muggle_.

She turned and scanned the view from outside the gothic gates of Qismah Mansion, a stunning three-storey off-white brick Palladian architecture, looking back at her through floor-to-ceiling windows that were decorated with deep red velvet curtains. There was a fountain and a cupid statue smack dab on the entrance of the breathtaking well-maintained garden of roses and the lawn was neat and trimmed. It was gorgeous, really.

The first time she passed by the mansion was after her meeting with a client – she had cheated on her wizard husband with a Muggle man who was pretty well off, had a mansion of his right around this place. She had decided to go for a walk, and stood still, as if frozen when she came face to face with this lovely, empty mansion. There was something about the place that called to her, as if it was meant for her. There was an aura that seemed to lead her to it.

She never really had a penchant for the grandiose, always opting for stability and reliability. This time, however, she said 'to hell with stability!' and got in touch with the realtor. Plus, she had always wanted something away from Wizarding London.

Her first tour, she almost had a conniption. Marble floors, spiral staircases and the library – oh, the library. It took up two floors (not that she minded), connecting to the balcony which overlooked the gardens. What amazed her even more were the stained glass windows in most areas of the house. They were intricate designs, the windows. They were always depictions of romance, of lovers and all-round sappy stuff painted with the colours of the rainbow. She wasn't sure if love was something she still believed in, but the art was beautiful, nonetheless. There were also various portraits of men and women, all who look none alike. Hermione decided that like everything else in this place, it was going to stay. It made the place seem more mysterious and historical.

It boasted eight bedrooms, with other rooms that Hermione seemed to have lost count of … At the end of it; she was crushed – both by its sheer magnificence and the fact that she could not afford it.

"Well, it is beautiful. So beautiful," Hermione stole a glance up the spiral staircase. "How much is it?"

She turned to Anastasia, who was not alone. There was a short, old woman who had friendly, smiling eyes and a face full of wrinkles. She still looked lovely. Although strangely, she reminded Hermione of Popeye the sailorman.

"Oh, hello," Hermione beamed.  
>"Hermione, this is Greta. Greta was the housekeeper for decades now, ever since she was a young woman. She served until the passing of the previous owners, Mr. and Mrs. Archambault, which was about a year ago."<p>

Hermione held out her hand and shook the lovely old lady's wiry hand and she returned it enthusiastically, with both hands.

"This is the one," Greta whispered.

"Pardon?" Anastasia asked.

"This is the one that's going to be the new owner here," Greta explained, still staring at Hermione, never letting her eyes stray for Hermione's.

"Oh, no, no, this is just surveying," Hermione offered, feeling a little embarrassed now. "I'm not sure I can afford it."

"Are you sure?" Anastasia asked Greta.

"Yes," Greta nodded resolutely, still smiling at Hermione.

And that was it. Money was apparently not the issue for the Archambaults, for they left the house to Greta for her to choose the next owner. It was a rather bizarre thing, but the only thing Hermione needed to pay for was the processing of documents, so she counted her blessings and accepted.

"But still, can you believe it?" Anastasia's voice snapped Hermione out of her reverie, "Magic, really? Who the hell still believes in that?"

"Oh, you'll be surprised," Hermione raised her eyebrows and sighed, reaching inside her pocket and touched her wand. She smiled to herself and took another look at this glorious place that was to be her new home.

"What about your belongings? Do you need my help with the movers?" Anastasia asked.

"Err, umm, no. I only have a couple of things … not much. I'll get my friends to help me move them here," Hermione lied. Of course everything was just a flick of a wand away. Which reminded her, she needed to have a proper house-warming with Harry, Ron and everybody else.

"Where is Greta, by the way?" she asked Anastasia. "I was thinking maybe the three of us could have dinner."

"She's probably inside, talking to the walls," Anastasia said, swiping on her phone, "She does that. Superstitious, remember?"

"Well, I'll just go look for her then."

* * *

><p>There were whispers. Soft, motherly whispers.<p>

It was soothing, like a mother humming to her baby.

Hermione was on the second floor and walked towards the sound. Room after room, she eventually found Greta walking all by herself towards the library, hand caressing the walls as she whispered to nothing and no one in particular.

"She will take care of you … and you will do the same," she whispered.

Hermione smiled. It was such a sweet moment. This woman, who'd worked in this very mansion for so long, has such an attachment that touched Hermione. What was strange was that Hermione could feel a cool, flowing aura surrounding Greta at that very moment.

"Greta?" Hermione called.

Greta turned around and smiled at Hermione.

"Oh, sorry, dear. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?"

Oh, no, that's terrible! Now that Hermione's bought this place, Greta had nowhere to stay! Oh, _crap_.

"Yes, I'm going to stay with my son."

"Oh. Well, I really don't mind if you stayed here with me. It is after all, your home, too."

"No, no, I couldn't possibly do that. It is time for me to move on, now that she has got a new owner. My final service to the Archambaults is done."

"She?"

"Yes, _she_," Greta winked. "She is the oldest friend I have."

Greta then grabbed her umbrella and her bag, and walked past Hermione. The aura disappeared.

"Talk to her often … like you would do with a friend. Introduce yourself."

Hermione stared around at the walls and the stained glass windows, this time of a charming lady staring back at her, offering a single rose.

Without saying anything, Hermione left to have dinner with Anastasia.

* * *

><p>Upon arriving home after dinner, she immediately transported her belongings from her old flat. Everything was done within minutes, and she found herself back at the entrance of the mansion, in the middle of the vast marble floors.<p>

It was so quiet, the only thing that could be heard was the grandfather clock ticking away a couple of rooms down in the den.

Hermione looked around and tapped her foot, feeling a little nervous. Well, nobody was around to watch her do it anyway.

"Well, hello … house," Hermione stammered. "My name is Hermione … I'll be staying with you from now on. I hope you're alright with that. I'll take good care of you and umm, ugh for goodness sake, this is silly," she laughed, "But there's only you and me now so … hello and … pleased to make your acquaintance?" She even shrugged at the end, as if she was talking to a person who made her really nervous. The aura returned, as soon as she said that, but she reckoned it was just her feeling. She had always liked drama in her life anyway. Plus, she was 110% sure that this house was non-magical, despite what Greta said.

"I think you're really beautiful," she continued, "Those designs, the art, I can tell that this house was filled with love. Umm, I'm not sure if I still believe in that, but you're lovely, nonetheless."

The aura travelled around her, as if inspecting her. Again Hermione brushed it off.

"Well, it's late and I have work in the morning. Goodnight."

The aura followed her, up the spiral staircase, past the portraits of besotted men and women, to the third floor and finally to the master bedroom. Plush, large, red pillows inundated the four-poster bed, topped with a canopy. Again, there were very personal items around, and Hermione left them there with the exception that she included bits and pieces of her own belongings as well.

Having done her nightly rituals, she jumped into bed and could not believe her luck at acquiring such a masterpiece of a house. She smiled.

"Goodnight, house," she whispered and dozed off immediately.

* * *

><p>Hermione thought she felt something squeezing her, even as she was in a deep sleep. She hummed and tried to shift her body, only to find that she'd been paralyzed.<p>

Her eyes snapped open.

It was pitch-dark, and she couldn't see or do anything. The only thing that was for sure was that she felt as if the bed was swallowing her, she began to sink and sink ever-so-slowly into the large bed.

After blinking several times in panic, her eyes adjusted to the darkness with the help of the sliver of moonlight pouring through the drawn red velvet curtains.

"Oh God, oh God, what is happening," she whispered as she struggled to free herself, but her bed had gripped her so tightly that the only thing she could move were her eyeballs. Her heart was racing and the creaking sound from the bed was almost inaudible as her head was already halfway through the mattress. The mattress then began to slowly crowd around Hermione's head – as if it was trying to suffocate her –

"_Accio _wand!" Hermione cried out and her wand instantaneously zoomed towards her hand.

"_Immobulus!_" she twisted her wrist and pointed it at the bed, but the bed would not stop moving.

"_Petrifucus Totalus!"_ It still did not stop and Hermione's vision was now covered by the heavy mattress.

Her breathing was fast and her mind worked like a freight train, trying to get out of this before she gets suffocated by a bloody bed –

"_Ascendio!_" she shouted at the top of her lungs it the force and determination in her voice caused her body to propel upwards, hit the canopy and land on the carpeted floor, all tangled in said canopy.

She stood up immediately, half covered in canopy material, but she glared and pointed her wand at the bed purposefully. The bed halted, and slowly began to return to its normal shape.

"_Homenum revelio,_" she whispered.

Nothing.

"_Specialis revelio._"

Nothing.

There was no one present, and no magic present in this room, or in this mansion for that matter. It was just her.

She looked at the bed; face a mixture of disdain and confusion.

"My bed tried to kill me!"

* * *

><p>Her heart was still racing many minutes later as she stood there, staring at her bed. Maybe this bed was … maybe this bed was so old that it … umm …<p>

She scratched her head and shook her head. She muttered under her breath, lighting up the entire room and inspected the bed countless times, but having found nothing to help her figure out what had just happened, she gave up.

In dire need of a drink, she padded towards the hallway and passed by the portraits that hung on the wall. They were not magical, as they did not move like the ones Hermione was used to. She studied them and their names as she passed by, finding that they were all portraits of husband and wives that used to live here.

"Well, that's interest – AAAAAAAAAH!" the floor beneath her feet suddenly collapsed, and took her down down down three floors.

Screaming her lungs out, she saw the marble floor downstairs approaching fast but realized that she still had her wand in her hand despite her shock.

Again, for the second time that night, she cast a spell on herself in order to not die.

"_Arresto momentum!_" she shouted and mere inches before her head would have hit the floor in a bloody mess, she was stopped abruptly and landed gently on her back.

Her breathing was labored and her eyes still glazy from the fright and from the fall, but she squinted as she saw something approaching her head – something white, something big – something –

"Oh, holy fucking Merlin!" she immediately rolled away and stood up just as a large part of the ceiling slammed against the marble floor and shattered into pieces.

"Why is everything trying to kill me," she whispered, her brain working in a frenzied manner. Surely, this was not what Anastasia had meant when she said this house had magical powers? And Greta, Greta did not mention this once! She made it seem like the house was - well, not trying to kill the sole person in it!

What was up with this house?

She knew where to go to in order to get answers. She sprinted towards the library, casting a shielding bubble around herself just in case some random tile pierced her foot or whatever else fell from the ceiling. The woman on the window, the one with the rose, greeted her sight when she turned into a corner that led to the library. This time, however, she had a slight smirk on her face.

"The hell you smirking at?" Hermione hissed as she made her way to the library door. Every single record about this house had to be in there, she was sure of it. "I don't know how you do it, but I swear, I will find out and … _Alohomora!_" she pointed her wand at the doorknob and placed her hand around it.

"_AUGHHHHHH!_" she immediately withdrew her hand as if burned – well, she was burned! She looked at her hand, red and covered in scorch marks that felt like a million needles were piercing her hand.

"_Episkey!_" she muttered and found her hand spotless. But before she could be in awe of how flawless her spellwork was, there was a loud crack and deafening creaks came from the door before her. The hinges were coming off in a forceful manner, breaking the support of the heavy, ancient, mahogany door. It made a low, rumbling sound before it began to descend on Hermione, and glaring at the huge falling door, she shouted, "_Confringo!_"

And the door blew into pieces, leaving Hermione with a doorless library.

She turned back to the woman in the window, and she pointed at her.

"I get it. You don't want me here. Okay, I get it. But guess what? This place belongs to me now. It's under my name! And I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not!" she shouted at the window. "You will yield!"

Just like that, the medium-sized chandelier right above Hermione's head began to unscrew itself from the ceiling, and throwing one last glare at the woman, Hermione Apparated, faintly hearing the echoes of the impact of glass against the floor.

* * *

><p>She sobbed into Harry's chest as soon as he opened the door – his hair was ruffled and he looked like he had put on clothes in a hurry.<p>

"What's the matter, 'Mione?" he hugged her back, rubbing soothing circles on her back as he took in her appearance – half dressed and barefoot – a couple of gashes her and there.

They were not tears of fear or weakness … for Hermione, they were tears of confusion. Like that one time she couldn't solve an Arithmancy problem. It was _so _annoying when she couldn't figure out a problem. What the fuck was wrong with the house?!

"H-Harry," she said through her blubbering, "My house is trying to kill me!"

Harry blinked at her.

"What?"

"My house – at first it was the bed, it tried to suffocate me, and then the floor just collapsed, the ceiling tried to squash my brains, the doorknob burned me, the door almost squashed me entirely and the chandelier – I escaped!" she said, wiping her snot.

Green eyes blinked at her and dark brows knitted together.

"Bad dream?"

"No!"

"Are you hammered?"

"Harry!"

"Okay, okay, come in and tell me what happened, alright? I'll fix you a cup of tea."

Hermione nodded through stubborn tears and walked in after Harry.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure it's not haunted?"<p>

"No, Harry, I've checked it a billion times. It was in an area with zero magic. Even when these things happened, there was not an ounce of magical presence or magical signature," Hermione explain as she massaged her temples.

"What about that aura thing?"

"I didn't notice, I was too busy trying to save my life," Hermione muttered in dismay, "Even if that thing really was there, it wasn't … magical. Or maybe it was, but not like our kind of magic. It was more like a sentient being."

"Strange."

"Yes, and you need to help me Harry. You're an Auror, surely you can tell if something is up with the house or not?"

"Well, I, err, I'm more into catching criminals and shooting spells. I'm not really into checking houses for dark spells," Harry laughed. Hermione glared.

"Alright, alright. Tell you what; I'll take a look at it first thing in the morning. Spend the night here and then … we'll see what the outcome is tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright. That sounds like a plan. While you're out at Death Realm I'll just ring Greta or Anastasia, or both, ask them what the fuck is going on, and what exactly it is that they're not telling me. Thanks, Harry."

That night, she dreamt of mattresses chasing her.

* * *

><p>"Anastasia Bramson speaking," the cool voice responded after the third ring.<p>

"ANASTASIA!" Hermione nearly shouted, "It's Hermione!"

"Oh, hello there! How's the house going? Planning a housewarming party yet?"

"No, it's not that! The house – the house is crazy. Do you have Greta's number?" she asked, desperate.

"Hmm, I think I do … hang on … ah here it is," she gave Hermione the number, and with a rushed thank-you and 'I'll explain later', Hermione immediately dialed Greta's number.

"Hello?" the familiar voice answered.

"Greta! It's Hermione, I need to talk to you about something -"

"Yes of course, dear, what is it? I'm a little pressed for time, but what is it, child?"

"The house – the house is trying to kill me, Greta. You're the only one who believes me because you know what kind of … aura-being-whatever is in there," Hermione said in a breath.

Greta laughed.

"Nonsense, child! The house would never hurt you!"

"It did. It tried to so many times, like last night, the bed tried to suffocate me and you would not _believe_ the night I had. I called in sick today and I'm currently at a friend's because I know if I return, I would _die_."

Greta laughed once more, clearly amused, "Now child, I have to go. I'm going on holiday. Finally! Can you believe it, after so many years?"

"No, Greta, you have to believe me!"

"The only advice I can give to you is … don't fight it. It knows what's best. The house always knows."

And then she hung up.

Okay. What the flying fucking fuck was that?

The house knows best? So the best for Hermione is death?

No bloody way.

Hermione began to pace, stroking her chin but her mind was blank.

Just then, Harry appeared with a 'pop'.

"Anything?" Hermione asked hopefully. She was not crazy, she really was not.

Harry shook his head and sighed at Hermione's disconsolate face.

"Like I said … I really am not trained in this kind of thing but …"

"But?"

"But I did say I was going to try. And I found nothing. But if you really believe something is in there and it's endangering you, we will try to find out what it is okay?"

Hermione nodded. "Do we know any Curse Breakers or someone who knows how to deal with this kind of thing?"

Harry had a faraway look for a moment.  
>"Yes."<p>

"Well, then, grab a hold of that person!"

* * *

><p>Hermione had to stay at Harry's for two more days, because the so-called famous Curse Breaker had other appointments to attend to. Hermione had rolled her eyes then. Obviously he was a busy man or woman but … it was becoming rather a feat to have to pop back 'home' for a change of clothes while ducking flying lamps and failing ceilings.<p>

The day had finally arrived, and she was waiting patiently for the person to show up. She paced the marble floor, watching out for any suspicious movement or sound. So far, so good.

The Curse Breaker was over an hour late, and Hermione was getting agitated. The more she waited, the higher the chances of her getting killed by some flying furniture or something.

Finally, after what felt like ten hours, she felt a magical signature outside her gate. With a swish of her hand, she allowed the Curse Breaker entry and waited for the presence to arrive at her door before opening it.

Oh great.

"It's fucking Malfoy," she said, voice full of agitation. Whoops, she wasn't meant to say that out loud. It was just that her mind is not in the right place at the moment … plus the waiting, plus the discovery that Malfoy looked so dashingly handsome, for some reason, the years have definitely done him good and – wait, what was going on here? What was she thinking about?

"Well, hello Granger, glad to be of service. I'm great, how are you? Not so well, I presume, considering that you sought my help, and that you think your house is trying to kill you."

"You're late," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"And you're rude," Malfoy answered promptly.

"Ah, manners. You're quite excellent at them, are you not?" Hermione retorted. "Come in."

"Well, I'm a changed man, Granger," he said, putting down his large black briefcase as soon as he got into the house. He began to take off his gloves whilst looking around.

Hermione agreed. He certainly looked … _different_. Mature, poised and loathe as she was to admit that, charismatic. His hair was silver, like she remembered, but not gelled to death like it was in school, but more of a done-undone style. He was no longer pointy but he filled out quite nicely. He was not the typical heartthrob, and frankly Hermione never knew why the girls fawned over him then. But if it were now, she'd understand. It was an innate sort of confidence, and that was quite attractive. Even if it was Malfoy. Prick.

Dressed in an all-black ensemble, Malfoy's grey eyes were watching her just as she was watching him.

"Can't say the same for you, Granger. Still the same old, prudish swot, I reckon. And still, after all these years, you're still delusional and something is still trying to kill you," Malfoy grinned, and that was sort of attractive, too.

"You don't understand, Malfoy. I'm not making this up. My house is trying to kill me," Hermione walked towards him and looked at him dead in the eye.

"Granger, if I were your house, I too would try to kill you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Are you going to help me or what? Because if you're going to stand here exchanging love songs, I'd rather find someone else capable of doing their job."

Malfoy straightened then, and blinked, as if triggered by something Hermione said.

The attractive grin returned and he answered, "Oh, believe me, I am capable."

"Good, then you can get to work."

"Look, I'm doing this as a favour for Harry -"

"Harry? Why are you calling him Harry?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

Malfoy began walking around, "We're friends."

"Oh are you now?"

"Yes, he asked me if I could come in and check out this apparent … supernatural case. And maybe if you like, we can be friends too. That's the only way you're getting a discount."

"I thought you said it was a favour."

"Favour for him, not you."

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard that she feared it would get stuck.

"Are you always this unprofessional?"

"It depends, are my cases usually this childish? If so, then yes."

"Malfoy, really, I'm not joking. The house really is trying to kill me."

"How exciting," he said, still looking around.

"Look, Malfoy, if all you're going to be doing is make fun of my problem, then I suggest you get out."

Just the second after she said that, the door slammed shut and locked itself. It then began melting at the sides, making its hinges handles impossible to budge. The windows then, too, began to shut on their own, locked tightly. The curtains drew shut all by themselves, blocking out the sunlight.

Malfoy and Hermione were left in complete darkness, in a completely inaccessible mansion.

Malfoy's silver eyes looked up, his expression unfathomable.

"See what I mean?!" Hermione growled. "Now you'll get us both killed!"

Malfoy said nothing. He cast a Lumos and grabbed his briefcase before walking up the spiral staircase.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued!<strong>

**It's been a while, I know. But hey, I'm back, and hopefully this proved to be an exciting premise. Happy Halloween in advance!**

p/s excuse the mistakes in grammar/spelling, I do try to do a once-over but sometimes you can't detect your own mistakes, so whoopsie!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Missed you guys too! Also, profanities and swear words ahead. You love it.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Hermione watched as Malfoy noticeably struggled with directions, pointing his wand left and right. She sighed and swished her wand. Every single light, lamp and chandelier in the mansion lit.

"Ah. Thank you," said Malfoy promptly before he continued his march up the stairs, his briefcase of hate in tow. His leather boots thumped steadily and softly against the carpeted steps.

"Where are you going, Malfoy? Aren't you going to tell me what you're planning to do?" Hermione chased after him.

"Well, I've decided that you're not lying. So I'm off to start at the highest floor of this mansion."

"Let me help you," Hermione suggested, "It'd be easier for us to do it together."

"Granger, you were powerless even before I came here, what makes you think that your help would make a difference?"

Hermione skipped in front of him and pushed his chest back with her palm. He eyed her hand and then her face indolently.

"That was because I had a house that was trying to kill me, remember? Fortunately, it hasn't done anything dangerous to me since you arrived, apart from melt the door. So I take it that's a good sign. With you here, I don't think it'd try anything."

She was relieved Malfoy was here, and that was kind of a disturbing thought. There were many instances in her life in which Malfoy was involved, and never once had she felt relieved then. The most bizarre things were happening … first her house was trying to kill her, and then she felt safe around Malfoy? That was so unusual.

"Very well," he captured her hand and tossed it away from his chest in a flippant manner before he continued walking up the stairs to the third floor. "You may help. Just leave me be."

Hermione was stumped, right there on the stairs. "I, umm, well – how …"

Malfoy turned towards her and tapped his right temple, "Use your coconut, Granger. With all due respect, you're a witch with a phenomenal brain. Act like it."

With that, he dismissed her again and Hermione cringed inwardly. It reminded her of the time she panicked with the Devil's Snare back in first year. Ron had bellowed, "HAVE YOU GONE MAD! Are you a witch or not?"

Well, she couldn't help the fact that she panicked sometimes, like other mere mortals. It was only natural. Stupid Malfoy. She was going to show him, she was going to find an answer first and beat him to it – him and his laughable bag of what's-its and children's tears and dreams.

She plodded down the stairs and made her way to the library, careful to avoid the second floor entrance – where that vile woman was, smirking and offering her roses and shit. Ugh.

Now that she thought of it, this was the first time she'd actually set foot inside the library. She had meant to but … unforeseen circumstances made it impossible to even get it without getting her hand burned or having her body squashed or something.

She arrived at the matching library door (the other one upstairs was destroyed, of course) and this time, she was careful to check for any temperature difference or booby traps around the door knob. She even tapped on it a couple of times with her index finger, just to be sure.

The coast was clear. She pushed the doors open and was welcomed with the musky smell of old books and dust. She was already in love. It was dark, since the curtains have shut themselves all the way up to the second floor. The only light peeking in was from the oxeye window high up above – a tiny round window brought in enough light to find your way around, but not to read. With a small swish of her wand, the antique wall lights came on, and she smiled at the revealed beauty of the library.

Books, book, books – everywhere. Striking, ornate, wooden railings and steps provided access to the highest shelves on the second floor. There were massive oak tables and desks arranged in the middle, and Hermione instantly knew that she was going to spend most of her days here. _If_ she was still alive.

The ceiling art was incredible, Renaissance-style cupids looking down at her with cheeky grins and smiles while they lounged about in clouds.

Oh, wasn't that quaint. The previous owners were so obsessed with romance, and that was sweet. Except for that part where the house itself was so obsessed with death, or Hermione's death, to be specific.

She roved towards the back of the library, looking for shelves that had the label 'Records' and mercifully, the previous owners had dedicated an entire section to the mansion, all about its history, the art and a list of previous tenants. She levitated a whole stack of them and the thick dusty books trailed behind her as she chose a table and sat.

The books landed heavily, the sound echoing throughout the library.

She wondered what Malfoy was doing for a moment, but pushed that thought away quickly and set to work, determined to beat him in this unnecessary race that she made up to soothe her ego. There were about thirty books to study (for now) and she picked one at random. All of them were labeled 'History of Qismah' and she made a mental note to check the art books to find out what was up with the wicked one with the rose on the second floor.

For now, she had to concentrate on deciphering what in Merlin's name this book was trying to tell her. Given that this mansion was centuries old or even more, the text was in Old English. Some were in Middle English, not that it made it any better for Hermione. She was used to these sorts of books, of course, all those years back in Hogwarts. But she needed answers fast - her life was depending on it.

"No choice then," she whispered and went ahead with the foreword.

Minutes into reading the most complicated text ever, she heard a dull thud. It was probably Malfoy, she thought. Hopefully he hadn't smacked his head against something and died. She didn't need any more problems.

Another thud.

Oh, so he was alive then. What the hell was he doing upstairs anyway?

Hermione indistinctively heard the sound of something flapping – something like a book being opened very quickly, followed by a louder, firmer thud. And it wasn't coming from upstairs, it was coming from –

Hermione's fingers froze on the mid-turned page. The frequency of the thuds was increasing at an alarming rate now, and it was becoming so evident that it was coming from behind her.

She immediate stood up and turned around, finding such a weird, but fascinating sight. Books were falling from the shelves, as if some invisible hand was yanking them off the shelves and dropping them all the way down. It was raining books; one of the things Hermione had always wished would come true one day, now if only they were not –

One book hurtled towards her as at breakneck speed, and she ducked just in time to hear a heavy 'whoosh' come from just above her.

"Merlin, not again!"

The books were launched off the shelves in a brutal, purposeful manner and charged at Hermione over and over and she deflected them as fast as she could, careful not to damage them because they're _books_, of course she would let anything damage them despite their murderous intentions –

But she was pissed off really; the attacks were persistent and doubling by the minute so if she wasn't careful, one concrete-block book would hit her in the head and she'd die of concussion.

"What," she redirected a book, "Do," another, "You", "WANT?!" she shouted the end of it with all her might, channeling her frustration and adrenaline at the books and the volume of her voice.

"DO YOU WANT ME TO GET OUT? BECAUSE IF YOU WANT ME TO GET OUT, I CAN'T GET OUT, BECAUSE YOU BLOCKED ALL THE WAYS TO GET OUT?!"

She kept screaming and screaming like it was her battle cry, fighting with books and suddenly, the anger about the house wasn't the only thing she was releasing. Several unresolved feelings, conflicts and past arguments that had no closure came to mind – Ron, Hogwarts, her colleagues, her boss, the world – everything was fuelling her screams as she waved her wand left and right with utmost passion that could have rivalled Harry's during his duel against Voldemort. Her curls were flying all over the place, as were profanities.

"You fucking utter wanker of a mansion – Ron, you stupid, ginger twat – fucking ridiculous arsehole of a boss – thankless, unrewarding sodding job – fuck you, fuck you all!"

"_Granger! Granger! Are you alright?!_" Hermione heard someone call her _somewhere_, but she could not concentrate in the midst of her homicidal rage and dissatisfaction with the world.

"_Hermione fucking Granger!_"

She could see a bright-haired figure appear at the second floor's entrance (the door, obviously, was not in attendance).

"_What the fuck -" _Malfoy bellowed, and took out his wand, "_Incendio!_"

"NO! NO! Don't! Don't – do you know how old these books are?! Priceless! Don't! Rare!" she panted out.

"_Are you fucking mad?_"

She continued deflecting the books, now heavier in load – about hundreds of them at once – but as soon as Malfoy crossed the threshold, moving his whole person into the library, the books froze and plummeted to the ground, thunderous thumps echoing all over.

"Okay, what the fuck was that?" Hermione asked in an incensed tone.

"What the fuck was what?" Malfoy answered, "You were the one fighting books!"

"No, I meant – the books just stopped attacking me, right after you entered!"

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes – and it's a weird thing, too! Why does it only attack me when -"

Malfoy ignored her and turned around, walking out of the library.

"- hey! Where the fuck are you going, Malfoy?!" Hermione shouted after him, and immediately sprinted up the stairs to the second floor.

She spared two seconds to glare at the woman at the window before catching up to Malfoy, whose robes were billowing behind him like a dark aura as he paced down the hallway.

"Hey, are you onto something?"

She was right behind him as they passed by the guest rooms, and without saying anything, Malfoy pushed a door open and waited.

Hermione peeked inside curiously, only to find a neat room with pristine, white sheets. Huh?

And then her wand was stolen from her, and a mighty force pushed her forwards. Her face almost kissed the carpeted floor if she hadn't used her hands to break her fall.

"What the -"

_BANG! _

"_Colloportus,_" she heard Malfoy whisper.

Hermione couldn't fucking believe it. Malfoy had slammed the door and locked her in. The bastard!

"Might I inquire as to what the fuck you are doing exactly, Malfoy?" she crossed her arms and tapped her foot in exasperation.

There was no answer.

She looked around. The room looked innocent enough; there was simply nothing here that could possibly kill her. Except for maybe collapsing floors. With that in mind, she immediately skipped towards the bed and sat on the edge.

"Malfoy, if this is your idea of keeping me safe, it isn't working. I need my wand, for the most part."

Still no answer.

Something satiny and smooth glided over her wrists, and she gasped – some white fabric was curling around her wrists, and as she tried to pull her hands free, they got tighter. She stood up at once but was yanked back towards the bed, the sheets twisting and turning around her wrist as they dragged her towards the headboard.

"Malfoy! Help! It's happening again!" she shouted, voice trembling at the awareness that she was unarmed.

The sheets started to twist and turn around her ankles this time, and pulled her so tight that she was spread-eagle on the bed.

"Malfoy, seriously –"

The drawers opened and about five antique crochet hooks – with really, really razor-sharp ends – began to float towards her. It was almost teasing, because they swayed here and there, as if they were dancing.

The door opened and Malfoy stayed put, watching from outside the room, even as Hermione struggled against her textile reins.

Malfoy took a tentative step forward, into the room and the hooks froze. He withdrew and the hooks continued their journey to stab Hermione in the eye.

"No, Malfoy, please, do come in!" Hermione called.

This time, Malfoy relented and walked towards the bed, the hooks instantly dropped all over Hermione.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, as Malfoy stroked his chin, brows furrowed.

"Hmmm."

"I hope that by watching you have deduced something," Hermione muttered.

"Oh, I have. It's quite an odd deduction, really."

"Do tell," she said, trying to pull her hands free.

"Well, as I was working upstairs, I felt this strange aura around me. It was not antagonistic, but it felt like an observer."

"Mmhmm," Hermione pulled and pulled but she was still stuck. "Before you continue, do you mind?"

"I'm not sure I want to, you look quite nice like that," Malfoy grinned like a cat and Hermione inwardly prayed for strength. Fortunately, the gods answered and Malfoy waved his wand, cutting Hermione loose. She sat up and rubbed her wrists, watching Malfoy all the while.

"You were saying?"

"In essence, the house itself is a sentient being. And I think it wants us to like each other. It would only leave you alone if I'm in the same room as you."

"Well, we're already acquaintances; we can stand each other now. I'm pretty sure we can get on even better than this if we tried. Provided you stop being a snob and all, of course."

"I'm not sure if your perspective on the word 'like' is accurate."

"What do you mean?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"The house wants us to like each other. As in … _like_ like."

"As in … I like you, love you, want to have babies with you kind of like?" Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

Malfoy's eyebrows did the same, both raised as he looked at Hermione as if she just admitted to him that she was in love with a goat. "Wow. No wonder you're single. You scare men off with that kind of behavior and infatuation."

"Oh, please, Malfoy," she grimaced, "You're the last person I would ever consider dating, let alone procreate with."

"Likewise. The house seems to think otherwise, though."

Hermione shut her eyes and growled deep within her throat.

"So can you fix it? Fix the house?"

"I should be able to, but this might take longer than expected," Malfoy moved and crossed both his arms and ankles whilst leaning against the wall.

"So you'll stay here then, until it's fixed."

"Unfortunately, yes," he drawled.

"Great," Hermione jumped up and walked towards the exit. "You do realize that we have to stay in the same room? I don't want to die."

"Ugh," Malfoy shivered.

"Right now, my life is more important than your obvious repulsion towards me. So I don't really care what you think," Hermione said clapped her hands and smiled sweetly at him.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and scowled, "Fine. But I need to return home for a jiffy to get my things."

"Things? What things? I thought you had everything you needed in your bag of snob and pretention?"

Malfoy then raised his brow at that and shook his head, "Clothes, Granger. You know, things you put on your body? Some of which you need a more tasteful variety?"

"How original, Malfoy. I wasn't going to dress up for you anyway."

"So you say. I'll be right back."

"No! Did you not hear what you yourself said? It'll try to kill me as long as you're not with me!"

"It'll be just a bit, Granger," he said adamantly, giving her wand back, "I'm sure you'll survive a minute or two without me, especially with a wand. You've managed so far."

Malfoy took out his own wand and muttered, "I'll be right back."

"Yes, yes, you said that," Hermione sighed and walked towards the vanity, inspecting the decorations there. A few seconds later, she turned and Malfoy was still there, a blank expression on his face.

"Why are you still here?"

"I can't Apparate," he said grimly.

* * *

><p>Eventually, they both set to work in the library, both poring over book after book.<p>

Hermione had sent three Patronuses – one to Harry, one to Kingsley and one to her boss, each with a variation of the explanation Malfoy had given her. She had told Harry that the curse was tougher, but rest assured that everything was safer with Malfoy (ugh), she told Kingsley that something had come up and she asked him as a friend and Minister, to tell her boss to lay off. She told her boss the same thing she had told Kingsley, save for the 'tell my boss to fly a kite' part. Harry said he'd try his best to help from the outside, and Kingsley said it was a sign that she should take a break after working like a dog. Her boss never replied. Prick.

Both Hermione and Malfoy were stuck now, unable to Apparate since the house had blocked that too. Malfoy had reading glasses on – thin, wiry ones that made him look serious and charming, in a way.

"What?" he asked, eyes not leaving the page.

"Hmm?"

"You're staring at me."

"The glasses suit you," she answered.

"Thanks," he said in a monotonous voice.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and breathed an "okaayyyy" before flipping to another page.

"I like your house," Malfoy said after a few minutes of silence.

"You mean because it tries to kill me?" Hermione laughed.

Malfoy smiled at his book then, "Yes."

"Hmm, should have known," Hermione replied nonchalantly.

"No, but in all honesty, it truly is a beautiful house. I've always wanted one similar to this."

"I'll sell you this one," Hermione suggested.

They both laughed at that, finding that funny for some reason given the current circumstances.

After a while, they both settled and continued reading, and Hermione noticed that Malfoy's cheeks were stained with a lovely pink colour.

They ate an hour later, the pantry blessedly filled with food as Hermione made sure of, and returned to the library after.

"Listen, the word Qismah was derived from an Arabic word, _qisma_," Hermione began, reading from a book. "This, if translated into English, means kismet."

"Oh dear," Malfoy groaned. "Fate and destiny, eh. No wonder these previous tenants were all husband and wife, seemingly brought together by this house. This house is a bloody matchmaker."

"Obviously this time it brought the wrong people together," Hermione said.

Malfoy rubbed his temples, "There has got to be a way to fix this."

Hermione frowned at that. Of course she wanted it to be fixed, but the way he said it sounded so … so …

"I'm tired. Time for bed," Hermione snapped and stood up so forcefully that the chair screeched.

Malfoy nodded and stood up, probably tired himself – or tired of himself, ha! – and trailed after Hermione. They walked towards the master bedroom in silence. The room had a closet filled with menswear, and Malfoy happily picked something to wear for the night – despite complaining about wearing other people's clothes. He even cast a _Scourgify_ on it.

"Don't be silly, Malfoy," Hermione rolled her eyes when she noticed that Malfoy began to line extra sheets on the sofa opposite the bed.

"What?"

"Look at the bed," she pointed, "It's massive. We can both fit in there."

Malfoy eyed her warily, as if having a mental debate.

"Well, suit yourself," Hermione walked towards the bathroom to brush her teeth but stopped in the middle. "Do you think it's fine I go alone or is this all considered one room?"

"It's considered one room, yeah, it should be fine," Malfoy answered.

Nevertheless, Hermione had the fastest teeth-brushing session of her entire life and raced out of the bathroom. Malfoy was waiting outside with his nightwear, muttering "my turn" as they passed by each other. Hermione climbed into her bed, exhausted and aching all over the place. She groaned in satisfaction as she rolled to her side.

The bathroom door swung open and Hermione shifted slightly to watch Malfoy move in the near-darkness, his hair and white shirt standing out. He was fussing over his makeshift bed and Hermione sighed.

"You know, Malfoy, I stand by what I said. The bed is large enough for the both of us. We can even put some bolster-barricade in the middle if I disgust you that much. But if you want to have rotten sleep and have a rotten day when you wake up, so be it," she huffed and rolled back to her side, groaning in pleasure again.

"So good," she whispered.

Moments later, a stubborn, "Fine" emerged from the sofa, and Hermione grinned.

Malfoy jumped onto the bed, causing the entire thing to shake and it made Hermione frown.

"Do you normally jump into bed like that?" she asked.

"No, I normally get jumped in bed," Malfoy drawled.

Hermione ignored him.

The air was tense; it felt so awkward that Hermione felt sorry for him.

She sat up briefly and started stacking pillows between them.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, grey eyes glinting in the darkness.

"Malfoy, people in Africa could sense that you're uncomfortable right now. So here's our barricade. Do whatever you please on the other side," she said and faced away from him as she settled down once more.

"Goodnight," she muttered.

"Goodnight."

* * *

><p>Good Lord, there wasn't any space left. She frowned and shifted in her half-comatose state.<p>

Did those pillows take that much space?

Ugh. She needed to move her right arm.

Wow, this was so uncomfortable.

She shifted again, trying to just move her legs –

"Stop that," a low, sleep-scratched voice mumbled.

Her eyes snapped open and she met grey.

How'd he get so close?

She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and her eyes began to wander down, down, down.

Their arms and legs were entangled, and they were surrounded by this … cocoon of whiteness. She tried to move again.

"Stop fidgeting, you knee is too close to my crotch and I would like to have children one day."

Uh oh, too close for comfort.

"How did we end up like this?" she asked him, meeting his grey eyes again.

"No idea. The house," he said, and every word that came out of his mouth blew soft breaths against Hermione's cheeks, "It must have … wrapped us around this cocoon with the sheets while we were asleep."

"Where's your wand?" Malfoy asked, "I can't reach mine."

Somehow, they got too entangled that Malfoy's arms were around her shoulders and hers were around his waist and lower back.

"Under my pillow," Hermione said, the warmth emanating from Malfoy's body almost hypnotizing.

"Fantastic," he whispered and shifted lightly. His left hand moved behind Hermione's neck and it tickled, so she moved a little.

"Ow, Granger," he warned.

"Sorry, it was ticklish."

"Oh is it an erogenous zone?" Malfoy asked just as his fingers began to tap behind her head for the pillow. "Just – a little – bit – got it."

"_Diffindo_," he whispered and the sheets behind Hermione got cut open and they both fell away from each other.

Hermione removed herself from the cocoon, followed by Malfoy and both of them caught each other's eyes. Neither said anything, but Hermione rushed to the bathroom with a face as bright as a telephone box.

* * *

><p>Breakfast, needless to say, was awkward as hell. Neither of them wanted to look at each other in the eye, both opting to converse with their toasts.<p>

"Bacon is delicious," Malfoy said to his orange juice.

"Yes, very. It's imported, I think," Hermione said to her beans. Malfoy hummed noncommittally in response.

"How is your juice?" Hermione said to his third button.

"Excellent," Malfoy said to her nails.

"Good," Hermione nodded and took a sip of her juice. "I think I'm done," she said with an air of unnecessary finality, stood up with her plate and walked to the sink.

"I think we should move on from the History section of the library. There is nothing in there apart from family backgrounds and all that tripe," Malfoy said from behind her.

"Hmm."

The entire kitchen began to shake lightly, and Hermione looked around. The door slammed and Malfoy stood up at once.

"Oh, no, what now?!" Hermione snarled.

Malfoy was silent as Hermione procured her wand. They were now in the most dangerous place in the entire house, and she couldn't make sense of what was happening – they were still in the same room, weren't they?!

"What's going on, Malfoy?" Hermione turned to Malfoy.

He remained quiet, still deep in thought.

"Malfoy!"

She heard something roll open – the drawers – and an army of knives emerged – all twenty of them.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! What the fuck do you want?!"

Malfoy pushed her out of the way just as the knives plunged towards her. They missed the both of them and ended up against the kitchen door.

"Don't antagonize it, Granger," Malfoy turned to her and said in a grim tone.

"Why? It's been antagonizing me for the past few days, hasn't it?! I have every right!"

"Just don't."

"What do we do now, Malfoy? We have to get to the bottom of this, considering that being in the same room isn't enough for the house anymore!"

"If it's an observer …" Malfoy whispered to himself.

"Oi, Malfoy. Are you listening?" Hermione grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard.

There were several thumps at that, and Hermione's eyes were focused on some of the knives that managed to get themselves off the door, aiming at the both of them once more.

"Malfoy, the fucking knives are at it again."

"You should kiss me," Malfoy replied instantly.

Hermione's jaw dropped to the floor.

"Wha – Why?"

"Just fucking kiss me, Granger!"

"Why would I do that? So we can both die in a dramatic fashion? Like a romantic film?"

"Just do it."

"No! Why the fuck would I want to?!" she yelled and the all of the knives were now aiming at them.

"Because the fucking house is a fucking observer! It cannot hear but it can see – and based on our interactions, it now thinks we're fighting, so fucking kiss me right-fucking-now, Granger!"

Hermione stared hard at him and tried not to think about how attractive a generously swearing Malfoy was.

"Fine!"

She stood on her tip toe and gave him a light peck on those soft lips.

"There!" she yelled.

Malfoy's mouth hung open.

"That's what you call a kiss?" he asked, and crossed his arms, "Right then, this is where we die. All because Hermione Granger cannot kiss to save her life. _Literally_. Kiss me, Granger – like wild lusty animalistic fucking kissing!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, chucked her wand onto the table, grabbed the sides of Malfoy's face, and kissed him hard.

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED!<strong>

HA HA HA!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Being that close with Malfoy meant that she was able to see the small flecks of blue in his grey eyes before her eyes fluttered shut.

"Hmm," Hermione hummed as her initial force dampened and she melted against Malfoy. How irritatingly soft his lips were!

"Hmm?" Malfoy hummed back in response.

"Mmhmm," she returned, and then neither of them knew who opened their mouths first, because before they knew it, tongue met tongue and they were snogging – not _wild lusty animalistic fucking kissing_ like Malfoy had described, but more of a … _hmmm this feels nice let's continue_ _kissing_.

The distant sound of something metal falling to the floor with a loud clatter completely escaped their minds, because this … this felt rather nice. Hmm.

Somehow, Malfoy putting his hands tentatively on the small of Hermione's back broke the spell, and both of them pulled away at the same time with widened eyes. Both were gaping at each other for a while and then Malfoy looked down at the bunch of knives on the floor before releasing his grip on Hermione by raising them next to his head.

"So that worked."

"Yes," Hermione answered with a cool voice, attempting to sound all bossy and professional now, "Explain what you meant about it being an observer."

And then she saw Malfoy's lips move, and his fingers and hands demonstrating his point – as if talking about the sun rays hitting his eyes – and – crap, she wasn't concentrating at all. All she thought about was how soft Malfoy's lips were, and how nice it felt. How long had it been since she was kissed?

"Pardon? Could you repeat the part of the stuff where you said all about the things?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly.

"The house observes, Granger. It can see but not hear. Remember that passage you read in the book? About this house being a matchmaker? About us apparently being destined to be together? Well it's here to see that just that happens. That we actually end up together," Malfoy gestured with his hands again. Oh, so that was what he was doing with his hands. "It didn't like that we seemed a bit standoffish and not looking at each other in the eyes, and to something that cannot hear what we were talking about, it looked like we were arguing. It was happy with our progress and didn't want it to be ruined."

"Progress, what progress?"

"Well, it started with meeting each other. And then being in the same room with one another. Then we slept in the same bed," Malfoy explained and leaned against the kitchen counter, hips jutting out. Hermione stared at the fabric of his dark trousers and decided she quite liked the colour.

She broke out of her reverie and answered, "I see. Then that isn't true romance. That's classified as the propinquity effect, to be specific. Forcing two people to be together at all times and this would somehow encourage interpersonal attraction. This house is misled. There is no way in hell that both of us are meant to be together – and there is no way in hell that we will _ever _be together, even if the house forces us to."

"I agree," Malfoy answered promptly, briefly examining his pristine nails. "And how exactly do you propose we annul the house's verdict?"

"There has got to be at least one book about its powers. I'm sure of it. So many generations of lovers have lived in this mansion, and there must be at least one with half a brain to actually think of jotting it down. We've got an extensive amount of reading to do."

"Have you maybe thought of us just giving in and falling in love with each other?"

Hermione sent him a weird look, "Really?"

"Yeah, what if that was the only way for us to get out of this house? It gets more agitated by the second. Let's just ease things up and free ourselves."

"There is nothing free about being in love, Malfoy," Hermione sent him a wry grin, as she took a seat. "It's an eternal prison of passion directed at the wrong things most of the time – jealousy, fear, anger. It's madness."

"I disagree. There is a difference between being in love and love itself."

"I know. But what is your take on it?"

"Well, this is something I didn't theorize on my own, but it's something I read off a novel by Louis de Bernières."

"Wow, the old Malfoy would have claimed it was his own idea," Hermione feigned shocked and clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Oh, grow up, Granger. I did," Malfoy sent her an irritated look.

"Alright, alright," she laughed, raising her hands in apology, "Let's have a listen then."

"He simply wrote: _love is a temporary madness. It erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. That is just being "in love", which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident."_

"Wow, that's beautiful, Malfoy," Hermione nodded, clearly awed, "Impressively memorized and superbly articulated."

"Thank you."

"Well I have a take on love too," Hermione huffed and stood up.

"What is it?"

"If it feels like shit, it must be love."

"And who said or wrote that?"

"Me," Hermione grinned triumphantly, "And it doesn't get any more truthful than that."

Malfoy scoffed and shook his head.

"But," Hermione spoke as the wheels in her brain began to spin and spin, "I get what you mean about the falling in love part. You said the house is an observer. Can't hear, only see. Maybe if we pretended to be in love – you know … body language, touches, smiles and glances – it may actually fall for it and eventually release us. We can pretend while we're doing research on ways to break the spell, if any."

"You're right, it could work. What an astounding brain you have, Granger," Malfoy clapped.

"And you should probably start calling me Hermione if we're ever going to pretend to be doting lovers."

"I have no problems with that, I truly can pretend to love someone with very little effort" he brought his hand to his chest in mock sincerity, "But for you however, it would require more of a 'love is a wonderful thing', and less of a 'love is crap, love is nonsense, I've got no one to comfort with my bosoms'."

Hermione narrowed her eyes as Malfoy threw his head back and laughed mirthfully.

"You're so lame, Malfoy."

"When did you become so bitter?"

"I'm not bitter!"

"Yes you are, I thought you Gryffindorks would be throwing up rainbows and farting hearts and all that, especially when it came to love."

"Well some things change, I suppose," Hermione shrugged and then waved her hand at Malfoy, "I mean, look at you. You're defending the power of love and I'm now the cold, heartless one."

And then Hermione frowned. If things really could change, would that mean that falling in love with Malfoy was no longer the impossibility it once seemed? No, no. She shook her head. That would still remain impossible - forever.

"What was that?" Malfoy sent her an amused look.

"What was what?"

He pointed at her forehead, "What was going on up there?"

"Nothing," Hermione averted her eyes and walked towards the door. "Come on Malfoy, we have work to do."

"It's Draco," Malfoy called out from behind her and paused, before lowering his voice, "_Darling_."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and glanced back at him.

"Well, hurry up, Draco sweetheart, or I die once I leave this room alone," she exhaled noisily and watched as Malfoy pushed himself off the counter and stalked towards her.

They were about to step out of the kitchen, before something large, something warm enveloped her left hand.

Hermione looked down at their now-linked fingers and looked up at Malfoy's sly smile.

"What are you doing?" Hermione questioned.

"Why, I'm holding hands with the one I love, of course," Malfoy answered with a raised brow, as if that was the obvious answer for a truly asinine question.

At that moment, Hermione's heart did some strange flip that she clearly did not permit. Just one flip, though. She stared and stared at Malfoy's face.

Malfoy squeezed her hand lightly and looked at her inquisitively, "What's the matter, love?"

Hermione retorted at once, "Nothing, dear. Just amazed at how wonderful you look."

"Of course," Malfoy winked and brought their linked hands towards his lips, and he kissed her knuckles frivolously. "_You_ put that look there."

"Oh, you're good," Hermione laughed, as she began to walk out of the kitchen, hand in hand with Draco Malfoy.

They walked towards the library in silence and Malfoy eventually let go of her hand as he took a seat at a desk. Propping his legs up in a relaxed manner, he chose a book at random and began thumbing through the pages.

Hermione flexed her fingers, for it was tingling all over.

Holding hands with Malfoy was definitely strange, but not unpleasant.

* * *

><p>"So why do you not believe in love anymore?" Malfoy, umm, Draco asked as he cut some meat with a knife during dinner.<p>

Hermione had managed to cook up a storm, with Draco being surprisingly helpful in the kitchen. Things do change – well, some things, Hermione reiterated in her head stubbornly.

"I do believe in love," Hermione countered, "I believe in love all the time. Friends, family … pets."

"I meant the romantic kind."

Hermione shrugged, "I do believe in the romantic kind. I just believe that it's not meant for me. I kind of forgot what it's like to feel that way for someone."

"Why's that?" Draco put down his knife and fork to rest his chin on his hand, apparently very interested in Hermione's answer.

"Well … dated a lot of people, fell madly in love with them, but something eventually happens and it's all over. Maybe I'm just not meant to be with someone."

"Nonsense, Hermione," he grinned and Hermione's head snapped up at the mention of her name, "I'm right here. You're with me now, aren't you?" he ended the sentence with a wink and Hermione chuckled.

"The world really is a strange place now. Draco Malfoy, lightening up the mood."

"I do what needs to be done," he shrugged and picked up his fork.

Yes, he was the Curse Breaker. And now he was only doing what needed to be done. Pretend to be in love so they both can escape the house. Yes.

"You're doing it again," Draco remarked.

"What?"

"You're thinking hard about something whilst looking at me. It's giving off the impression that you really want to stab me in the neck with your steak knife," he primly stuffed another piece of meat into his mouth and chewed, the way his jaw worked enticed Hermione's eyes for a short bit.

"That would be suicide, because if I kill you, I'll be dead within the minute."

Draco nodded but continued staring at her.

"You're too tense," he said.

Hermione sighed, "What is it, Hitler, that displeases you so?"

"Well, you were the one who suggested we act like lovers, and the way you're behaving really makes it seem like you're here against your will – and don't retort to that, smarty-pants," Draco rolled his eyes and interjected Hermione before she got a word out, "If you're going to convince the house, you're going to have to convince yourself, and then convince me."

"Huh?"

"Look at me like you're in love with me. Surely you can pretend that I'm someone you're in love with?"

Hermione laughed and looked down at her plate, pushing her steak around with her fork.

"It's up to you, really. Reckon there'll be a bunch of knives waiting to kill us in say … two minutes?"

Groaning, she lifted her head but shut her eyes. She began to envision the perfect male in her mind – brunet, bulky, rugged – everything the opposite of Draco Malfoy, really, and opened her eyes.

Draco jerked back a little.

"You look …" Draco inspected her face further and looked confused, "_Constipated_."

"What? You know what, I'm not doing this. Let's just hold hands across the table, it should be good enough."

"No, no, let's try again. Come on, Hermione, I know you have it in you," he cajoled.

She groaned again and shut her eyes, this time listening to Draco's voice narrating in the background.

"Just imagine chocolates, diamonds … money. Whatever is it you girls are lusting after these days? I swear women now are so different compared to women back then. I can say the same thing for men too. It's like the whole thing just got screwed up somewhere in the middle and then everyone's moaning about how unfair the world is -"

Draco went on and on and it began to disrupt Hermione's concentration on picturing the perfect man to fall in love with. Somewhere in the midst of Draco's passionate tale, Hermione opened her eyes and watched as Draco talked about everything under the sun. He sounded quite pompous still, leftover from Hogwarts, she presumed. But it somehow made him all the more adorable, in a weird, incomprehensible way. Well, the present Draco was already weird and incomprehensible anyway. She smiled a little.

"_Ah,_ there it is," Draco pointed at her face.

"What?"

"That look. That smitten look. Told you, you had it in you," Draco smirked and continued eating. "Now keep picturing whatever you just pictured every time you look at me, and then we'll probably be set free sooner than you can imagine."

Hermione frowned. But she wasn't thinking about anyone or anything in particular, she was just looking at Draco and thinking he was adora – oh, bollocks. She had actually thought Draco was adorable. And what did he mean by smitten? She was not smitten with him, nor will she ever be. She was just appreciating him and his new, somewhat-likeable personality. That was it.

Now, to find something or someone to actually think about when looking at Draco …

* * *

><p>Bedtime was unbearably awkward for Hermione, but not for Draco. He beat her to the bathroom this time, insisting that she "took such a long time in there".<p>

She folded and watched as Draco emerged from the bathroom and jumped into bed gracefully, no hesitance whatsoever. She walked into the bathroom and brushed her teeth and everything, only to find Draco reading when she came out.

He looked up when she did, and pat the spot next to him.

"Come to bed, pet," he murmured and put the book down.

Hermione was amazed at how at ease and carefree he seemed, as if he was used to these kind of situations already.

_He probably is. Probably has twenty girlfriends stacked somewhere_, Hermione thought. _Either that or he's a very, very gifted actor._

"Have you ever considered going into theatre?" Hermione asked, partly because she wanted to know, and the other part was because she was avoiding silence as she climbed into bed next to him.

"No."

Draco merely shook his head and answered quickly, leaving Hermione to feel as if the few seconds that she needed to climb into bed seem as if it was a thousand, quiet years.

"Well, goodnight," Hermione said and rolled to the side, her back facing Draco.

A rustle and a shift in the bed later, warm arms enveloped her from behind, and she felt something warm and heavy position itself behind her head.

"Huh?" Hermione breathed.

"You can be the big spoon if you want," Draco offered.

"No, no, no thanks," she said, burying her face into her pillow. This was quite alright. Quite warm and comfortable, actually.

A few seconds into their embrace, Draco lifted his head and his left arm left Hermione's side. Hermione turned towards him out of curiosity, and found that Draco was moving her curls upwards, so that he could have more pillow and less hair.

"You hair smells lovely, don't worry. It's just that I didn't want it to poke my face while I sleep," he whispered and then laid his head back down.

"Oh."

"Well, goodnight love," he said, voice laced with a teasing lilt.

* * *

><p>Hermione had the best sleep of her entire life, and she woke up well rested. Though, not in the position that she went to bed in.<p>

She was no longer spooned nor was she spooning, but she was more … hanging onto Draco in her sleep. She could feel it, as she kept her eyes closed.

She remained that way, thinking about nothing when she noticed the change in Draco's breathing. He was also awake.

Her eyes opened to find grey ones staring back at her.

A slow smile crept on his face.

"Morning."

"Good morning," she answered.

Without saying anything else, Draco brought her chin up with a finger and he moved down to catch her in slow, chaste kiss.

Hermione's eyes widened as he pulled away.

"It's here, can you feel it?" Draco whispered.

She looked around the bedroom and as Draco had said, she felt that familiar aura floating around the bedroom.

"Oh, right," Hermione agreed. No wonder he gave her that kiss. "Good call."

"We ought to get up, have breakfast and continue working," Draco said and pulled away, finally getting out of bed.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan," Hermione said quietly, forcing a smile.

They each took turns to go to the bathroom, and by the time Hermione came out of the shower fresh and clean, the aura was no longer in the room with them. She rolled her eyes and walked down with Draco.

"Hey, look," Draco exclaimed, "The curtains are open."

Hermione was busy looking down at her feet the entire trip down, and she finally looked up to brightness. True, the curtains were drawn back, allowing glorious, glorious sunlight to pour in, bathing the house with radiance. Much of its natural beauty was back.

The door, however, still remained shut.

**TO BE CONTINUED!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

That can only mean they were making progress.

"It's a good thing, that means it's working," Draco winked at her and jogged down the remaining steps.

"Yeah, a good thing," Hermione mumbled after him and didn't want to overanalyze the dread in her voice. No, it was nothing. She genuinely thought it was a good thing. It wasn't like she wanted things to move a bit slower, so that the both of them could get to know each other better. No! That was crazy!

"Madness," she muttered and joined Draco at the bottom of the stairs.

"Now," Draco said and wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulder, "What would my beloved have for breakfast this morning?"

"Freedom," she said truthfully – or was it a lie … No, no. The faster they get out the more control she would have over these weird thoughts and possibly … mixed feelings?

It was the propinquity effect, she knew it. Just because Draco showed up here after all these years, suddenly her mind was in a mess. Pure insanity, that was.

"Ah, you read my mind. I want the same thing," Draco grinned. "At least we're progressing."

Yes, progress. Progress was important. But wait – progress with what? Deceiving the house or Hermione's f –

_No! No no no no no no no no no no no no. Eggs and bacon. Eggs and bacon. Make eggs and bacon, _she chanted in her mind.

They ended up working in the den that day, with Draco curled up on the sofa by the fireplace and Hermione in the armchair, flipping page after page and getting nothing.

"There truly is nothing in these books," Hermione pointed at the stacks of books that they'd levitated in there. "Did these people really not have any objections when they were brought together by this house?"

"I doubt they were sworn enemies," Draco answered casually, now spread out evenly on the sofa, his book propped up on his chest. "And plus if you read the history of their meeting, it was always something pleasant … balls, gatherings, sport or something coincidental like getting the wrong directions. Not meeting through services rendered to fix a house that was trying to kill the current tenant."

"Seems a little easy," Hermione pointed out.

"Well," Draco glanced at her and smiled at his book, "Nothing was ever easy when it comes to you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione allowed herself a grin at that and then turned to Draco again, "You really think that?"

"Yes, you managed to make my school life a living hell just by existing, beating me at grades and all that. Life was so difficult then, as it is right now, at this very moment."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione sighed, "I meant the part where you think we are sworn enemies. Do you really think we're sworn enemies?"

Long moments of silence.

"I don't think so. Not anymore, at least," Draco answered quietly, watching the flames flicker in the fireplace, "We're in the same room, still alive and conversing like two normal people, I think that means we're … friends."

He stretched like a cat and massaged his eyes.

"Well, I'm glad. It's nice being friends with you, Draco," Hermione answered, a strange, unclear feeling was bubbling in her stomach and chest.

Draco was silent after that.

"So this means I get a discount, then?" she asked playfully.

Silence.

"Draco?"

Hermione craned her neck in order to get a better look at Draco, and found that he was fast asleep, book abandoned on the floor and hand spread on his chest. His light blond lashes brushed against his cheeks and his lips were parted slightly.

She watched the steady rhythm of his chest and smiled. He must have been very tired. It was well past one o'clock in the morning or something like that as Hermione glanced at the ticking grandfather clock. Everything was blurry now of the reading, so she blinked a couple of times before getting out of the armchair.

Stretching as much as she could, she walked towards Draco's sofa and considered levitating him upstairs. That, however would wake him right after she levitated him – either that or he'd wake somewhere up the stairs and break Hermione's concentration. Then she'd lose the spell, Draco would fall and roll roll roll down the stairs in a messy, bloody heap.

"Well, I ought to cut your pay since you're falling asleep on the job, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione whispered and took out her wand, "_Accio _blan – _Accio _master bedroom duvet."

She had to change her spell a little after recalling that there were a billion rooms in here, which would mean that had she completed the first spell, hundreds of duvets would fly into the room.

Their silver and white duvet came in no less than five seconds and Hermione captured it and laid it gently over Draco's sleeping form.

Hermione straighted.

Wait, wait, wait – what?

_Their _silver and white duvet?

HA. She meant _Hermione's duvet_. Yes.

Deciding that she wasn't sleepy enough for bed, she decided to walk to the kitchen and get some tea before getting some extra reading done.

She'd wanted to give up hope with every book that she was reading, but she needed Draco away from her before she lost her mind and Merlin forbid, do something improper to him and with him. Hell, she was already thinking of the duvet as _their_ duvet, on _their bed_.

"Oh, my God," Hermione said through gritted teeth as she filled the kettle with some water.

What was next? _Their bathroom_? _Their house_?

No, that wasn't going to happen. Not like this, at least. She'd thought about it as coming along naturally … dates, kisses and then the bed sharing can happen … not like this. Not in this forceful, sadistic sort of way. Not to mention fake.

So that was why the sooner they found a way to solve this mess, the better. At least after that they can consider …

Hermione blinked.

Consider what? Consider dating for real? Was she actually thinking about that? If the chance came by again, with normal circumstances, would she actually say yes to dating Draco Malfoy? The same Draco Malfoy she hated throughout her school years, the same Draco Malfoy that she still hated the second he appeared here a few weeks ago? The same Draco Malfoy sleeping in the other –

"The other room …" Hermione looked back at the kitchen door curiously.

That was odd.

They were separated now, and Hermione was sure she'd been in here for more than five minutes already. Alone.

And there were no knives or hot water trying to kill her. She took out her wand just in case and waited.

There was a sharp noise screeching next to her and she jumped about a mile. She looked at it and sighed in relief.

The kettle was boiling, that was it.

As Hermione made her tea, she did it with extra caution and continuously looked around warily for flying chopsticks or … whatever, really. With this house, one can never stop being imaginative.

She sat and drank her tea and everything. Nothing.

"Huh," she shrugged; surprised that she really was not going to be murdered. Not that she was hoping to be, of course.

She decided to push her experiment further by leaving the kitchen, walking upstairs, got into her bedroom, shed her clothes and jumped into the shower. She had her wand at the ready, but after about ten minutes of nothing except the soothing, warm spray of the shower, she put it away and began to relax.

After she'd finished, she relished in the fact that she didn't have to change in the bathroom as usual. Now that she had the room all to herself, she got dressed in a lazy fashion, walking around in only her panties as she paused to select the right bra to wear. It was a luxury that she didn't have for the past few weeks – not that it had been Draco's fault – it was always her being self-conscious about the possibility of him leering at her or smirking at her choice of lingerie, and she'd normally snatch the first thing her fingers got in contact with, pulled them out of the drawer and rushed off to the bathroom.

Well now, it was different. Draco was downstairs and …

Hermione looked at her bra sadly.

She felt disconsolate. She felt sad that Draco wasn't in the same room as her; she missed him even though he was just three flights down. She almost wished (much to her own disappointment and self-preservation), that something would happen and that he'd come running after her.

She laughed to herself and shook her head as she gazed at her bra again. Yes, well, if that to happen right at that moment then Draco would have the worst timing in history because she was –

_BOOM!_

_"NAKED HERE!" _Hermione screeched, covering her chest with the bra as the master bedroom door blew into pieces and Draco Malfoy emerged, face serious and mouth set in a firm line. Debris of another ruined door clung to Draco's black turtleneck, and smoke was trailing from his frame.

It happened so fast.

He marched right up to her and grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly.

"What happened? Are you all right?" He asked seriously, checking her face for any sign of distress. The only thing he found on her face was a huge, gaping mouth and eyes that were wide as … well, as wide as eyes ever got.

"What's wrong?" Draco shook her again.

Hermione's mouth was broken, as she formed words but no sound came out.

"Hermione! Are you hurt?" Draco pestered.

"N-no," she squeaked, trying to make as little movement as possible.

"Oh thank Merlin," Draco sighed and immediately captured her in a tight, warm hug. Hermione was surprised at the display of worry and affection, and she would have returned the hug if she could. However, that meant releasing the bra that she was pressing so tightly against her breasts. She kept still again, hoping that … hoping that Draco would maybe not notice –

"Granger, why are you in your underwear?" came the amused voice in her ear and the so-called pet name.

"I just took a shower and was changing when you barged in like a maniac," she whispered, shutting her eyes in embarrassment. Her face was so hot and she felt it throb along with her heartbeat.

"Oh, well, forgive me," he said, his voice serious again, "I was merely concerned."

"Thank you, that was so sweet," she said monotonously. "I mean it, though I don't sound like it. It's just that I, umm …"

Draco shifted a little, and sniffed. There was a pregnant silence, and Hermione's legs were shaking lightly.

"You smell wonderful," he said quietly, "Vanilla."

"Mmhmm," said Hermione forcefully through all the blushing, "Would you mind letting me go, shutting your eyes and letting me go so I can change quickly?"

Draco moved, but he moved in a tempo that made Hermione rather impatient as it made her feel even more vulnerable and naked. Literally so.

Finally, Draco's arms were free from her back, and his head moved slowly as his body retreated. His eyes caught hers, and there it lingered for long moments. Neither said anything as Draco's fingers caressed Hermione's shoulders lightly.

There, in Draco's eyes, was something unfathomable. That something was reflected in Hermione's eyes too, as they both felt _something_ at the same time, the moment their eyes caught and skin was on skin. Hermione, however, finding this moment a very difficult time to dissect or acknowledge what that feeling was, cleared her throat.

"Umm, Draco?" she tried

Draco blinked, "Oh, yeah, absolutely," he said and nodded before shutting his eyes.

The second he turned around, Hermione put on her bra as quickly as possible and raced across the room to get her pyjamas. She dressed across from Draco, who still had his eyes closed but was breathing rather … heavily. His fists were clenched, and so was his jaw.

Hermione –

"_Whoa!_" she fell on her bum on the carpeted floor as she tripped on her pyjama bottoms, spread eagle with only a shirt on, facing Draco.

"What happened?" Draco asked sharply, his head turned towards her.

"_No! _No, no! Don't open your eyes!"

He frowned but listened anyway.

"I just tripped on my pyjama bottoms, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

Draco's lips curled in a way that reminded Hermione so much of Snape, and she immediately pulled her pyjama bottoms and stood up, all ready and a little dizzy from all the action.

"Okay, I'm done," Hermione panted, and she pushed her bushy hair back from her face.

Draco opened a grey eye first before opening the other and stood in a relaxed manner.

"So," he started, breaking the silence before the awkwardness began.

"So … we can now separate," Hermione told him.

"I can see that," he grinned, "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Um, you looked peaceful so I let you have your rest," she said.

"Careful, Granger, many people have fallen in love watching my sleeping face," he said matter-of-factly.

Hermione scoffed and began to climb into bed. She was suddenly so tired. She had meant to go down and do some extra reading but … well …

"I'm tired, honey, so I'm going to go to bed," Hermione sighed as her head hit the pillow.

"Hmm. I guess this means that I should go sleep in the guest bedroom then," Draco began walking towards where the door used to be and Hermione's eyes snapped open.

She sat up and watched Draco as he was about to leave the room.

"No, it's okay. I really don't mind. You can stay," Hermione stared at his chest instead.

"Shall I leave you two, then?" he answered and Hermione looked up at him. His eyes were dancing with cheekiness. "You were staring at my turtleneck the whole time you said that, Granger. Fine."

He immediately stripped himself off his turtleneck and threw it towards Hermione, and it landed flat on her face.

The smell of Draco invaded her senses and she caught a good whiff before taking it off her face.  
>"Well, it is a nice turtleneck. Are you staying?"<p>

Hermione realized that that had just sounded like the questioning after a lover's rendezvous. What with Draco's half-dressed state and her in bed …

"Yes, darling, I'm staying," Draco said, displaying his naked chest for Hermione to ogle as he walked towards the closet, hips swinging in a slinky way. "I'm going to change right here."

"Ah, okay," Hermione nodded and shut her eyes.

"No peeking," he said in a lowered voice, and Merlin, did Hermione want to.

"In your dreams, Malfoy," Hermione grunted.

"What? I'm just making things even between us. I saw your naked upper body, and now you've seen mine. It's only fair," he said nonchalantly as there was a rustling of clothes.

"Oh, please, that doesn't count. I saw your _entire _upper body, and you only saw bits and pieces," Hermione argued.

"Did I really …" Draco said in a cheeky voice that was heavy with implication.

"You did _not!" _Hermione snapped, her face hot again.

"Alright, I did not," he answered and jumped into bed next to her, "If that will help you sleep tonight then yes, I did not see _everything_."

Hermione groaned and faced away from him, willing herself to sleep and not over-think.

"Can't lie again tomorrow, though," Draco whispered, voice clearly amused. "Night night, darling."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

* * *

><p>They continued their daily routine as per usual the next day in the library, with Hermione avoiding any thinking that involved Draco and Draco being … well, Draco.<p>

Things were a little less tense without the need to constantly watch whether they were still in the same room or not, save for the fact that they each had to announce loudly whenever they were off to take a shower (since Hermione no longer had a bedroom door).

This time, it was Draco's turn and Hermione decided to welcome the break and thought of taking a walk down the second floor.

As she emerged from the second floor library's door-less entryway, she caught sight of the forgotten stained glass window of _her_.

She was still smiling mysteriously, still offering the viewer a single rose, and Hermione decided she would not take it, again. Fuck her and fuck her rose.

"No," Hermione snarled at her, "Let it go already. I will not yield. I will get out of this, whether you like it or not. And there is nothing you can do about it. I do not like him. I do not have a crush on him. I don't even have the hots for him. I do not want him nor am I halfway falling in love with him. This," she gestured towards the entire house, "_This _entire thing will pass. Just you watch."

She continued glaring at the window for a long, long time until she saw Draco jog down from the third floor, hair damp.

"Well, that was quick," she called out, her eyes not leaving the lady's until she got far away enough to not maintain it.

* * *

><p>Hermione shifted in her sleep, feeling like something was off.<p>

She opened her eyes and was welcomed by darkness, but it wasn't the darkness that she was wary about. Something was missing.

She looked behind her and frowned.

Draco was missing.

She sat up straightaway and listened for any sounds that might indicate that he was in the bathroom, but the light was not even on. Stepping out of the bed, she grabbed her wand from under her pillow and did a quick scan of the house.

Draco's magical signature was by the entrance on the ground floor, and she was puzzled. What on earth was he doing there so late at night? Did he wake up in the middle of the night to do some extra reading?

She debated going back to bed, but she really felt that something was off and decided to go downstairs to look for him … just to make sure he was all right.

Her soft footsteps were the only thing that accompanied her on her way down, and the lights were not even on. Draco was the type to light up everything, just because he liked lavishness but this time … It really felt strange.

Her head was beating really fast and she felt queasy, and she quickened her steps as she cast another scan. It told her that Draco was still in the same place, unmoving. She swallowed heavily and was very nearly running down the second floor towards the first when she saw that the large chandelier right above the entrance hall was swinging rather dangerously. That had never happened.

Her eyes then landed on Draco and she gasped. He was on the floor, eyes shut as if asleep. Smack dab in the middle of the entrance hall, right above the chandelier.

"No, no, no, no," she muttered as she raced down the remaining steps towards Draco, "Draco! _Draco!_"

She knelt down next to him and tapped his face lightly, "Draco? Draco!"

He was unresponsive, continuing his comatose state as the walls and ceilings began shaking as well.

"Draco, wake up!" she shouted and pointed her wand at his temple, "_Renervate!_"

Nothing happened, he still remained unconscious. She tossed her wand away and brought her ear towards Draco's chest to check for a heartbeat. Relieved as she was that he was still alive, Hermione glanced up at the ceiling, it was cracking everywhere now and she saw if not felt part of the ceiling drop not far from where they were.

Parts of the ceiling began to drop dangerously close to where they were, and before Hermione had got the chance to grab her wand a cast a protection charm on the both of them and a levitating one on Draco, a large part of the ceiling fell too close to them, managing to crush her wand in the process.

"Oh, shit, oh shit!" Hermione felt Draco's side pockets just in case his wand was there, but it wasn't. Draco normally kept his wand beneath his pillow like she did, and now –

"Draco, wake the fuck up!" Hermione tried again, this time slapping him across the cheek a couple of times. It didn't work and she got up and pulled Draco away from the crumbling ceilings and swinging chandelier to a corner. Draco was much too heavy to carry without a wand and even if they were able to run, the pathway was steadily being blocked by parts of destroyed walls and ceilings.

What the fuck was happening?

She kept Draco as close to her as possible, so much so that she was nearly on top of him. Hugging his head close to her chest, she kept chanting for him to wake up.

There was a loud, steady whoosh of a sound, and Hermione noticed that it was the chandelier, swinging so violently that she was worried it might just fall off.

"Ugh," she heard.

She looked down and saw that Draco was frowning and grunting.

"Draco! You're awake!" she said, laughing in relief and hugging him tighter.

"Ugh, what happened?" he opened her eyes and looked up at her.

"I woke up in the middle of the night and found you lying here in the middle of the entrance hall. Do you remember what happened?"

"No … no I don't … I can't move … What's happening?" he said, watching as the house fell apart slowly.

"I don't know – and I don't have my wand, it got crushed to pieces," Hermione said, "And yours is upstairs."

"We might die," Draco said unceremoniously.

"It's okay, at least I'll die with you," Hermione answered at once, finding that she truly meant it.

Draco smiled and shut his eyes.

The chandelier finally swung free from its thousand-year-old fasteners and began to fall.

"Watch out!" Hermione cried and grabbed Draco close to her, as she heard the deafening crash of glass meeting marble, thankful that they had vacated the area earlier. The impact was so powerful that the glass smashed into a million pieces – that, combined with the force, sent glass soaring all over the place, including at Hermione. She had multiple gashes on her arms and legs whilst protecting Draco.

"Fuck, I knew I should have learned how to do wandless magic," Hermione muttered, feeling the blood ooze from her arms and legs.

"What if it was our destiny to die here?" Draco joked.

"No, no … you said it before, remember? It's the love kind of destiny," she reassured.

"Thought you didn't believe that tripe."

"Well, I don't know but … we're not going to die, that I know for sure."

"Hermione - "

"Yes?"

Draco reached out towards her with his right arm, suddenly able to move. He was bringing her closer towards him. Just when she thought that he was going to kiss her, Draco, in a magnificent display of sudden strength, flipped them over.

"I think I'm in love with you," he said, and then yelled out loudly as parts of ceiling collapsed on him.

And then he passed out.

**TO BE CONTINUED!**

As you may suspect, the end is nigh. Teehee.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Draco was a stupid fucking clown.

There he laid, his head nestled in the crook of Hermione's neck, seemingly dead.

But Hermione refused to accept that. She kept smacking his back and pulling his fine, blond hair but he still wouldn't budge. Now if this had happened while the house wasn't collapsi –

Hey. It stopped.

From the top of Draco's head, she could see that the mansion has ceased its murderous intent and everything was once more at a halt. It may or may not have felt guilty about Draco's apparent murder.

Either way, there was one really pissed off Hermione Granger, crushed beneath Draco Malfoy's body. She finally – slowly – moved Draco off her and cradled him.

"Draco," she called urgently, wiping soot and dust off his cheek and forehead, "Draco, wake up."

He was unresponsive and eyes remained firmly shut. . She checked for signs of breathing and found that Draco had a pulse, but it was a very low, weak one.

Hermione withdrew her left hand from the back of his head to reposition him on the floor, and found that it was tinted with blood. Hermione's panic soared very quickly. It was a shallow wound, but she didn't want to take any chances.

She got up on her feet and ran upstairs, climbing through the ruins of the mansion. She very nearly tripped into the master bedroom, but eventually got what she came for. She secured Draco's wand under his pillow, and a vial of Essence of Dittany. She stormed her way downstairs – Draco fucking Malfoy better not be dead.

He was still stock-still, on the floor as if he was sleeping. If only he was, Hermione wished, if only he was.

She slid onto the floor next to him and dropped the Essence of Dittany onto his wound and watched it close and heal.

"_Rennervate_," Hermione muttered while pointing Draco's wand at his forehead. Light glimmered from the tip of the wand, but nothing happened.

Hermione frowned. She tried again.

"_Rennervate!_" she said, this time forcefully and full of feeling, channeling all her magic and hopes that Draco would just wake up to annoy her once more with his attitude, mixed signals and his ponderings on love.

Still, nothing happened.

"_Rennervate! Rennervate! Renner-fucking-vate!_"

Over and over Hermione cast the spell yet nothing happened. Grey eyes did not open to meet hers and she was scared.

Oh, wait, maybe his wand didn't work for her!

She pointed at a large part of the wall that was on the floor.

"_Reducto_."

And then it exploded into pieces. Hermione frowned at the wand in her hand and tried to levitate a smaller part, and it worked.

"Fuck, what's the matter with you, Malfoy?!" she turned to Draco and shook him. She performed a quick scan on him. When the wand scanned through his head area, it lit up a fiery red.

Hermione stared at him and started tearing up. If he was hemorrhaging internally, which was probably the case, she needed to get him medical attention fast but –

She glanced at the door, still sealed shut and there was no fucking way she would let Draco Malfoy die. Watching the door doggedly, she leaned towards Draco a dropped a long, ardent kiss atop his lips and lingered. She had no idea why she'd done that, nor how it happened but she ignored it for now, as the main priority was keeping him alive. They couldn't Apparate straight to St. Mungo's and so she had to try something else.

Standing up and walking towards the front door, she gripped the wand tightly and aimed in front of her.

"I'll get you out of here, Draco," she said through gritted teeth, "I swear."

* * *

><p>Hermione's face was boiling hot and red in colour.<p>

She'd tried every single curse known to her (which was a colossal amount) in attempt to break down the door but it just wouldn't happen.

She checked Draco's pulse every now and then and would die a little inside every time she thought there wasn't a pulse. It was there, faint … hanging on to dear life. A life that, somehow, was in Hermione's hands.

In all honesty, Hermione was terrified. Not because someone was about to die, but mainly because it was Draco that was about to die. The thought shook her to the core, as her mind strayed to imagine a world without Draco Malfoy.

In retrospect, until about a month ago, she wouldn't have cared if Draco was alive or not – she was ignorant about his life as much as he was about hers, no doubt. Sure, if either one of them had died, they'll probably spend a good few minutes thinking about what had happened at Hogwarts, and that was it.

Now … now it was different. She didn't know what it was but, everything has changed. She would care now if he died (Merlin forbid).

But nothing worked on the door and the windows. If she couldn't Apparate them both to St. Mungo's, she would at least need to be outside with Draco to be able to, and sending a Patronus whilst in this mansion would be useless because no one could get in and out.

"Fuck," Hermione hissed passionately as she wiped her sweat and watched Draco's chest rise and fall weakly. Hermione, on the other hand, was breathing rather heavily – in both anger and frustration – as she glared at nothing.

All of a sudden, she turned on her heels, raised her arms and looked at the ceiling.

"Take me instead! Take me, you piece of shit!" she started picking up bits and pieces of her ruined ceilings and walls on the floor and started to throw it at sporadic directions. "TAKE ME! Isn't that what you wanted?! Kill me and spare him! Killmekillmekillme!" she was jumping in frustration now as she ran out of rubble to throw.

Nothing answered and nothing happened. Something clicked in her brain and without thinking it through; she began to walk upstairs towards the second floor.

She was going to meet _her_.

It seemed preposterous, how this window would ever change anything. The only thing it managed to do was to endanger people's lives (Hermione suspected, after she was yelling at it the day before), and destroy shit. But this time, Hermione had nowhere else to go. It was worth a shot.

The house was dark and mostly in ruins, but the window was still the brightest and most pristine area of the house – it seemed to be glowing on its own, evidently due to some curious magic. That strange aura was also hovering around it.

"Look," Hermione stood right in front of her, staring straight into her amber eyes, "I don't know what it is you have against me, but can you please let us out so I can take Draco to the hospital? You're welcome to kill me some other time, I promise. I won't even resist. So come on. Let us out, then."

The lady stared back at her, unmoving but somehow _alive_. Hermione didn't want to ponder on how bizarre this all seemed, all she really wanted to do was to save Draco.

"Please, please," Hermione continued, in a softer, gentler – sincere – tone, "He might die, you know. He's hemorrhaging internally and … I really cannot do anything to save him right now, so he really needs medical attention. He will die if he doesn't."

It was quiet and nothing moved. Hermione was tired and frustrated, and was on the verge of breaking down. She slid down the floor opposite the window and sighed heavily.

Without any warning whatsoever, she started sobbing.

"Why can't you just – comply – for once," Hermione said through sharp intakes of breath and wiping of tears, "Just – this – once. I need to save him, Merlin knows why but I need to – so please."

Her sobs echoed throughout the entire mansion and that only made her cry more. Images of Draco began to flitter through her mind – his laugh, his smile, his nefarious attitude – and she really didn't want to lose that. Not this soon. Not this fast. She'd only begun to know him, how can the House of Destiny take away something so quickly?

"I read that you bring people together – those who are meant to be with each other, true love and all that crap" Hermione whined through her hiccups, "How can I even have that if you're taking that person away from me? I may halfway be in love with him and this happens."

"Please, please, let me get him to St. Mungo's before he dies, please, please," Hermione chanted, sniffing all the way, "I don't want him to die, please."

Hermione was muttering sleepily as she closed her eyes, suddenly tired from the tears and the rubble-throwing downstairs. She tried to convince the house to do something; she needed it to help save Draco. Dropping in and out of consciousness, Hermione's mind was filled with a gallery of Draco's face and she sighed before whispering, "I think I love him, for fuck's sake. Bloody hell, I think I love Draco Malfoy."

She was a few seconds into sleep then, before she heard a loud click on the periphery of her mind. The sound alerted her and she snapped out of her drowsiness and straightened her back. Following the loud click was a loud creak and Hermione instantly scrambled to her feet.

"Thanks!" she offered to the window before running downstairs to see that Draco was, mercifully, still breathing. That was the first thing she made sure of before noticing that the large, ancient door was no longer melted into the wall, but wide open, revealing the moonlight, clouds and the beautiful garden outside. Hermione understood; it was the mansion's way of telling her that they were free to go.

"I assume this means we can Apparate, too!" Hermione yelled to no one in particular and fell on her knees next to Draco. "Shut the door when we leave though, some people might intrude. Though … I don't think you'll have problems dealing with them."

She clutched Draco tight, shut her eyes and …

… felt that familiar pull of Apparition.

* * *

><p>They arrived at the hospital, both in one piece, and Hermione rejoiced. Draco had enough damage done to him and Hermione really did not need him to get splinched.<p>

They were smack dab in the middle of the busy hospital, and caught attention almost immediately. Within a few seconds, Healers came to take charge of Draco, and Hermione was finally, finally at ease.

She collapsed onto one of the waiting chairs and exhaled, sending a Patronus to Harry a few seconds later.

The Boy-Who-Lived emerged minutes later, hair ruffled, face serious.

"Harry!" Hermione stood up and threw herself at him, enveloping him in a tight, tight hug.

"Hermione, I'm so glad you're alright!" Harry squeezed her and added, "I did try to get you out of there, but there was nothing, believe me."

"I know, Harry, nothing could break the curse," she nodded and pulled away from him. "But I'm glad Draco's getting help now. I was so scared then, I thought he was going to die."

Harry's green eyes bore into hers, a knowing smile on his face but he said nothing. They sat next to each other, holding each other's hands, so glad that they were with their closest friend once more.

"So how did you do it, then?" Harry asked suddenly, breaking the minutes-long silence.

"Hmm? Do what?" Hermione looked up at him questioningly.

"Break the curse. How did you do it?"

"Umm, I, umm," she blushed furiously then, and did not know how to tell Harry.

Harry grinned. "So I take it you're in love with him then."

"I … I don't know," she shrugged and tried to push her confession earlier on at the house far, far away.

"Well, you have to be otherwise the curse wouldn't have broken. It had to be mutual. I read about it."

"Umm, I don't know, really. It was the heat of the moment kind of thing. I was desperate to get him help."

"Why were you desperate to save him?" Harry asked, an amused smile on his face.

"Because he was hemorrhaging internally, Harry! He could have died!" Hermione said exasperatedly, wishing she could escape this conversation. "Do we _really_ have to talk about this?"

Harry laughed at her flustered face and put his arm around her shoulder, "Aw, come on. I was just teasing. It is truly okay if you're in love with him. He's a nice chap. A changed man but with some elements of the old Malfoy, though not entirely unlikeable."

Hermione laughed at that and shook her head, "I agree."

"So what now, then?" Harry asked. "Now that you two are out of the house?"

"I go back and fix it and … well, Draco can go on with his life."

"Are you serious?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why are you still so skeptical about this whole romance thing? It's right there in front of you, Hermione, take it!"

Hermione kept quiet and sighed heavily.

"I'm still not so sure. I'm stubborn, I know but … what if whatever we felt was only for the time we spent together? What if it … fizzles out now that we're free from each other?"

"Well, it's a risk you both must take but … if it's any consolation, a form of magic unknown to us, and very ancient one at that, knows that you both are for each other. It's never wrong, apparently."

"It's just really strange … it's …"

"Destiny," Harry nodded confidently.

"I mean to say it's too fast to say anything."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Well, if you insist," Harry said after a while, "Stay away from him for now, and then if you somehow find your way back to each other, or if these feelings still linger, then you know it's love."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat at that, for she suddenly remembered what Draco said once: _Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident._

A Healer came out from the treating room then, and smiled at Hermione.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" she asked.

"Not yet," Harry sniggered next to her and Hermione elbowed him hard.

"Umm, nope," Hermione answered, and could only take the Healer's smile for good news.

"He seems to be doing fine, and he should be awake in a few hours," the Healer said, "You can go in and sit with him if you like."

Hermione stood up then and Harry followed suit, and the Healer left after opening the door for them.

Draco was still unconscious and Hermione really, really wanted to see those grey eyes again.

Harry was kind enough to stay with her, allowing her to not over-think about what to say to Draco once he wakes up. They chatted about work and the damage done to Hermione's house, and promises of a house-warming party soon.

"Speaking of which, I need to fix my wand," Hermione told Harry, "It's broken."

"Hmm, it might take a while if you want it fixed."

"Shit. How on earth am I supposed to get home and get to work without a wand?"

"Consider a replacement?" Harry suggested.

"No, Harry, I'd rather get it fixed. I'm so attached to that wand, it was my first."

"Then you wait," Harry shrugged.

A foreign voice joined their conversation, "And you can use mine while waiting for yours."

Hermione's head snapped towards Draco so fast that she almost sprained her neck, and her brown eyes met grey.

"You're awake," Hermione stated.

"I was, for quite a while, but then listening to you two got extremely painful," Draco drawled.

"Malfoy, you wanker," Harry laughed and stood up to walk to his bedside.

"Ah, Potter, creative as usual," Draco grinned at Harry.

Hermione was fidgeting as they both conversed casually, and she really, really, wanted to not be here. Could she really want to be with Draco? She didn't know. This was not the place to think of such things. She needed some space to think about it, long and hard.

"Draco, I'm so glad you're alright," Hermione interjected, and the both of them looked at her. "Thank you for saving my life. However, I cannot stay and … umm, well, bill me later? And I'll return your wand soon."

"But Hermione -" Harry started, but Hermione shook her head.

"Bye, Harry," she said and looked at Draco, "Draco, I'll see you around."

He nodded and smiled and that smile was the last thing Hermione saw before she Disapparated.

* * *

><p><em>2 weeks later …<em>

"I mean, what the fuck was I thinking, right?" Hermione told the window, one of her most favourite places to rant now. "I know I'm stubborn but … I ran! Me! Hermione Granger. I ran."

She sighed. "And I'm sure everyone would think Draco Malfoy would be the one who'd run first. To be honest, I don't know why I ran. Call it a momentary lapse of judgment. He must think I'm mental."

It had been two weeks since Hermione had run away, like the coward she never knew she was. She was a 'distancer' and she knew it. She'd been so scared of losing herself after so long that she sabotaged her almost-something with Draco. She wanted to see him, she really did, but she was scared of that too.

"Oh dear God in Heaven, help me," she mumbled angrily and pulled on the carpet she was sitting on.

"_Hello? Hello? Excuse me, we're from Comedge! We're here to fix up your new door that you ordered!"_ Someone called from downstairs.

"Ah, yes! New doors!" Hermione got up and ran downstairs.

With a wand, Hermione easily fixed the damage, except for the doors. She ordered new ones and got her wand fixed on the same day last week. Since then, she'd been holding on to Draco's wand … until when, she didn't know. Until the house tried to kill her again, she supposed.

Hermione greeted the rotund men at the wide-open door. She'd left them open as she was expecting them already.

"The light brown one goes on the third floor, you won't miss it. It's the only room without a door. This one's for the second floor, next to a stained glass window of a lovely woman," Hermione told them.

They set to work and got it done fairly quickly, and when she was sending them off at the entrance, Draco Malfoy was standing in the garden.

"Hello," Draco greeted and nodded at the workmen.

"Ah, hello!" Hermione said, heart suddenly beating a billion times faster, her throat thickening. "How are you? How's the head?"

She tried to keep it as casual as possible but she was really beginning to find it hard to swallow.

"Fantastic and all good," he smiled and touched the back of his head lightly, "And yourself?"

_Suffering. Craving and wanting you here. The house feels empty without you. I want to try to be with you but I'm a bit of a stubborn idiot, despite how clever I am._

"Great," Hermione smiled, "Come in."

"I shan't be long, I've only come to pick up my bag of … hate and snobbery, as you call it," he winked and stepped into the threshold.

"Oh, yes, that," Hermione nodded and recalled seeing it plenty times on the third floor near the bedroom. "I was meaning to umm, umm …"

Draco waited patiently for her to finish her sentence.

"I was going to contact you," she said truthfully, "I just didn't know what to say."

"Right," he nodded, smiling, "I understand. I'll just go get my things and be on my way."

"All right. I haven't moved them, so you'll find them at the place you left them."

"Of course," Draco nodded and jogged up the stairs.

Hermione waited until he was out of sight before she too, jogged up the stairs, only she went to the second floor.

"Fuck, he's here! Is this your doing, too?!" Hermione pointed at the lady at the window. "I said I wasn't ready for fuck's sake!"

"Now what do I say? Oh, shit. Oh, shit," Hermione paced and tapped her forehead, "I mean, I really am not ready for this, can't you see?"

"What was I supposed to say – umm, Draco, I've been such an idiot. I think I really am in love with you and not because of how close we were for a month, I really feel that way and I'm such a coward and so on and so forth, _FUCK! _I can't do this."

"Um, Hermione?" Draco emerged from the stairs.

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucking hell._

He walked up to her with his bag of whatever and raised an eyebrow.

"Were you talking to the window?" he asked.

"No."

Did he hear that bit? Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck.

"You were. I saw you."

"Um, I do that, sometimes. The old housekeeper said it was good … that I must keep a good, healthy relationship with the house."

"Right, I'm going to go," Draco announced and spun on his heel.

"Okay, see you. Umm, house-warming party next Saturday."

Draco didn't say anything, merely disappeared down the stairs.

"_Fuck, I blew it once more_," Hermione hissed and turned to the window, "Right, could you kill me now? Please? This time, I beg you to _please, please kill me_."

"Really, what the fuck are you doing?" Draco's voice came from behind her and she jumped a mile.

"I'm talking to the window," Hermione answered monotonously.

"Right. I'm going to go ahead and say it; are you quite done with your little experiment with this propinquity effect rubbish?" Draco asked, crossing his arms.

"What do you mean?"

"Surely, this … staying away from each other with little to no contact must be a silly little experiment of yours, isn't it? To see whether we really do feel for each other or not?" Draco said, his face very serious.

So was that it? Was that what Hermione was doing? Conducting an experiment to find out whether she really was in love with Draco? But she knew that the second she left the hospital, only she was too chicken shit to do something about it.

"No …?" Hermione wasn't sure how to answer, now that Draco literally answered her unspoken question.

"So … you'd rather tell your feelings to a window, but not to me? I'm right bloody here, Granger."

_"I'm in love with you!" _Hermione said – no, shouted – at Draco.

And he snapped his mouth shut.

"I _was_ a little dubious about the feelings we had for each other, and I thought that if we stayed away from each other, it'd go away. But I guess the reason why I kept your belongings and your wand still is because … in the event that I do prove this destiny crap to be absolutely false, I'd still have a reason to … to umm, to get to you."

"Well, that worked. The first time, and this time," Draco answered quietly.

Hermione knew – that at that moment, her eyes were shining brilliantly. Her knees were shaking quite alarmingly, and she moved to the wall to support herself.

"I'm sorry, my knees can't stop shaking at the sight of you," Hermione huffed out truthfully and laughed.

"That's quite all right," Draco purred and then suddenly, he was right in front of her. "I'll make it so that you won't be able to stand."

"With a kiss?" Hermione asked, somewhat hopefully.

"With a kiss," he nodded and crushed his lips against hers. It felt like years since she'd kissed Draco's lips – the last time was the strange kiss she'd given him when he was unconscious and it didn't feel half as good as this, when it was returned.

They kissed slowly at first – like kissing on a first date – but Hermione supposed that their storyline was too unconventional to allow a first date kiss. It ignited a slow fire deep within Hermione and the longer they kiss, the bigger and hotter it got. What were shy touches here and there developed into aggressive clawing as they suddenly felt possessed. Their kisses got hungrier and hungrier, both drinking off each other like parched travellers, and soon, Hermione was hoisted up against the wall, legs around Draco's waist.

"Okay," Draco pulled away, "Maybe it won't end with just a kiss."

"I thought as much," Hermione panted, fingers buried in Draco's hair. "But maybe … maybe not here."

"Why not? Aren't you comfortable?" He smirked and pushed his body onto hers, and Hermione shivered deliciously as he rubbed her in the best ways possible.

"I am but …" she shut her eyes as Draco commenced that thing with his hips, "She's watching."

Hermione opened her eyes to watch Draco turn and look at the lady, who was ostensibly watching them with amber eyes.

"Let her watch," Draco shifted his smouldering gaze towards Hermione again, "It's what she wanted."

"No," Hermione gasped as Draco kissed her neck seductively, "It's what I wanted. It's what I want."

Draco paused and pulled his head back to look at her in the eyes.

"Really?" he asked, "Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded and caressed his cheek.

"It's what I want, too," Draco confessed and kissed her once more.

They continued ravishing each other and Hermione was becoming more and more distracted by Draco's ministrations, but she managed to gasp out, "We … should move …"

"Why, love?" He whispered silkily into her ear as she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. It was kinky being watched by some sentient being, but the fact that they were half dressed made it even kinkier – Hermione's skirt was kicked elsewhere, and hands were up her blouse – caressing, stroking and burning. Draco's shirt was half off and his pants were – well, Hermione didn't know where she threw his pants to. Her panties were ripped off and his boxers were violently pulled down and Draco began to tease her by undulating against her.

It was so hot – so hot that she felt feverish. It felt as though they were running out of air but she welcomed it, content to live on Draco. But she couldn't wait, she needed him. He was one thing she never knew she needed and now that he was here, she couldn't wait.

"Come on," Hermione kicked him slightly in the back of his thigh, "Come on, _come on_."

Draco chuckled darkly and finally relented, giving them both what they needed. He pushed into her and every part of her sang blissfully. They pushed and pull, both hovering over the edge of ecstasy and Hermione opened her eyes to watch the beautifully pained expression on Draco's face.

Her eyes then locked onto the stained glass window behind her and caught amber eyes.

"This is kinky," she gasped out.

Draco then touched her cheek and moved her face so that she was facing him, looking into grey eyes.

"This is destiny," he whispered, and with one final push, they both fell over the edge of seventh heaven.

Hermione swore she saw the lady's face shift into a smirk after Hermione cried out so loudly that it echoed throughout the entire mansion.

* * *

><p><em>Next Saturday<em>

"Ah, Greta! You made it!" Hermione exclaimed as Greta walked into the crowded mansion. "I wasn't sure you got the message about the house-warming."

"Oh, I did and I see that you," she watched Hermione and then glanced at Draco, who was talking to some other people, "And your destiny have found one another."

Hermione reddened at that, "I suppose so. It took quite a dramatic feat to get us together, though. Not to mention dangerous. Perhaps the house dislikes me compared to its previous owners."

"No, no … The house knows. It always knows. It knew you were a stubborn one, and it knew that only by doing what it did, that you two would finally acknowledge what was long dormant," Greta said with a knowing smile and then winked, "Now if you don't mind, I think I see champagne."

Hermione stood there by herself and laughed, "I see."

Warm arms wrapped around her from behind.

"Now what are you laughing about by yourself?"

She turned and wrapped her arms around Draco, his grey eyes twinkling.

"I hold destiny in my hands."

**THE END!  
>Well, hope you enjoyed reading that, I certainly enjoyed writing it.<br>Review! It's your destiny to review as much as it was your destiny to read this! Hint hint.**


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